In Her Corner

“She told me she likes to ride around the city before a workout to warm up. It gets her blood pumping.”

It probably got her in the right frame of mind for punching things, too. The way she biked, it was as if she was aiming to piss off people so they’d yell at her to get her good and mad. Not exactly the Zen-like discipline the Fiores were known for.

“What did Hadrian say?” Liz asked after a beat.

He stalled by spinning his chair around and staring at his wall calendar, noting the dates of all the different MMA events the gym’s clients were involved in. “Kyle?” Liz prompted.

“Nothing important. He was just calling in to check on us.” And tell me to behave myself. And sell more memberships. And be nice to Bella Fiore. Or else.

Liz looked like she wanted to say something, but whatever it was, she held back. “Bella’s warming up now. You need to go and greet her properly before she gets the wrong idea about you.” With that, she departed.

Of course, Liz was right. He had to play nice with Bella Fiore. Her family name had been the only reason he’d agreed to train her in the first place, and he hated to admit it, but he needed her reputation more than she needed his.

He wasn’t about to tell her that, though.

CHAPTER TWO

BELLA SURREPTITIOUSLY WATCHED Kyle Peters through the bars of the open vertical blinds covering his office windows. How long would she have to wait before he acknowledged her presence? Her temper simmered. She refused to be treated like a second-class student the way her grandfather and the rest of the family had treated her....

Calm down. You just got here, and Liz did say he’s cranky. She couldn’t take this slight personally. The guy didn’t even know her, and she had come on strong—one of her less attractive traits, according to her grandfather Fulvio.

She should probably cut Kyle some slack. Maybe he was simply having a bad morning.

Yet with every minute he made her wait, her doubts about leaving Brazil grew. Her family all thought she was crazy to pursue her professional fighting career against Fulvio’s wishes. Marco had been the only one who’d stuck up for her and suggested she go to New Orleans to work on her wrestling skills and take-down techniques.

“Avô will never give you what you need here,” he’d said. “You need to get away from the Fiore system. In the States, you’ll have teachers who are willing to work with you, if for no other reason than your blood ties.”

The Fiore name might open doors, but Bella wanted to be recognized as a fighter in her own right. She was more than the granddaughter of Fulvio Fiore, father of the Fiore BJJ system.

“Thought I’d bring you a T-shirt.” Liz interrupted her reverie and handed her a black cotton tee. “Don’t feel that you have to wear it—they’re too hot to train in. I think Kyle’s the only one who actually wears one on a regular basis.”

Bella slipped it on over top of her moisture-wicking short-sleeved rash guard. It was stifling, but she wanted to show her new boss and coach she was willing to be a part of the team. T-shirt solidarity could be unifying, couldn’t it?

“He should be out any minute. He’d never admit it, but calls with Hadrian Blackwell rattle him.”

“Bad news?” Bella’s question ended with a wry, speculative twist in her tone. She’d heard rumors about how phone calls with the UFF president often went.

“Let me put it this way. He doesn’t call to ask how the kids are doing. A call from Hadrian means it’s either horrifically bad news or stunningly good news.” She glanced back at Kyle and pursed her lips, and Bella got the distinct impression they rarely got the latter.

Bella looked at Kyle, too. He was gathering some papers off his desk and taking his sweet time about it. “You ever meet him?” Bella asked.

“You mean Hadrian? Yeah, once, when he cut the ribbon on this place.” She wrinkled her nose. “He called me ‘sweetheart’ and told me to get him a bottle of water.”

Bella nodded. She’d met the UFF president on a couple of occasions when he’d visited the flagship Fiore studio in São Paulo in the early days of the UFF. He hadn’t said much to her, either, but she’d only just started competitive fighting at the time, and with the rest of the boys around...well, being passed over wasn’t anything new to her.

“Careful,” Liz teased. “Your tongue’s going to start hanging out soon.”

Bella blinked. “Sorry?”

She tipped her chin toward Kyle. “You’re not the first girl to look at him like that.” Liz smiled wryly as Bella’s cheeks heated. She hadn’t even realized she’d been staring, much less drooling. “Pretty much every girl who walks through those doors falls for Kyle. He’s like a freaking calendar model.”

Bella chuckled. “I see the appeal, but I’ve been surrounded by muscly men my whole life. It takes more than a little flexing to get my attention.” Though not much more where Kyle was concerned. She’d followed his career too closely to deny more intimate knowledge of his life.

Liz shrugged as if to say we’ll see. But there was something of a warning in her look, too. Was it for Bella, or was she warning her away from the boss?

Finally, Kyle emerged, a clipboard in hand. “Bella Fiore.” He said it as though he were calling someone in line for a colonoscopy.

She stepped forward gamely and said, “Hi, Bella, I’m Kyle Peters.” She met his cool look with a goofy smile. When his face didn’t crack at her humor, she sagged and sighed. “Are we trying for a do-over? Because you really suck at them.”

Lines appeared between his eyebrows, cracking his stoic mask. “Is everything a joke to you?”

“Just this conversation. But I’m all about second, third and fourth chances. I like to get things right. Let’s try this again.” She stuck out a hand. “Hi. I’m Bella Fiore. Sorry about scaring you on the road earlier.”

He gripped her hand and slowly pumped it. “Kyle Peters.” No apologies for his rudeness. No “very nice to meet you” as he practically crushed her fingers.

“You always hold a girl’s hand this tight?” she asked sweetly, squeezing right back. “I usually get taken out for dinner first.”

He let go abruptly and took a step back. She folded her arms over her chest to keep from flexing her fingers. “I hope you realize this is a serious place of business,” he said, his demeanor icing over. “Our clients expect a certain level of professionalism.”

“I think I know how to deal with clients.” Wow. Who’d sucked the fun out of him? Marco had warned her that Kyle was charming and quite the ladies’ man. Well, whoever he’d been talking about, it wasn’t this cheerless drill sergeant. She didn’t care how hunky he was—the guy was a cuzão.

He settled the edge of the clipboard against his hard, flat stomach. “I’ve got you scheduled to teach a few of the free classes open to new and potential members. I have the last teacher’s notes if you need them, but you can design the programs however you like.” He handed her a sheet. Apparently, they were jumping right into things. Which would’ve been fine, except...well, she hadn’t been sure what to expect.

This wasn’t a Fiore studio run by her family and close friends—it was an official UFF gym, backed by one of the biggest MMA fight promoters in the world. What were the rules and expectations here? Were they stricter about how employees used their time?

“We’ll also be hosting a booth at a local health and fitness fair on the first weekend of November. You’ll be expected to take a shift, give demonstrations and do the setup and takedown.”

She scanned the schedule Kyle had handed her and scowled. “What’s ‘Bootyfit’?”

“It’s a class primarily for high-impact aerobics and core strengthening. It’ll be your responsibility to pull together the program.”

“And this—‘Girlicious Foxy Boxing’?”

“Women’s-only kickboxing. Noncombative striking, aerobic focused. Tito helps out in that class. You two can put your heads together and figure out how you’ll teach it.”

“Why didn’t you call it aerobic kickboxing?”

“Because guys who are serious about fighting would be disappointed by the class and girls won’t join it at all. These classes are meant to attract members outside our core demographic. I don’t know if you noticed, but this is an MMA gym. That label doesn’t inspire a lot of women to come through those doors.”

“And nothing reels women in like a class that teaches them to shake their booty while men gawk at them from the weight room.” Most women she knew would be happy to simply work out in a fun class. They didn’t need to be reminded that they had to be foxylicious or bootytastic or tittytacular or whatever.

His look grew stony. “The classes are held in the upper studio. And you should know that there are strict rules about harassment in place here at Payette’s. All my employees and clients are expected to behave appropriately. No double standards.” His viciously stern tone made her flinch. Bella did not like being talked down to. She was on the verge of snapping back at him when, thankfully, Liz intervened.

“Boss? Everything okay?” She glanced between them questioningly.

Bella hadn’t realized they were standing toe to toe like two growling pit bulls. Kyle broke away and rubbed tiny circles into his right temple. “It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

The receptionist gave him a look like a mother threatening a time-out, then went back to her desk.